She formed a habit which embarrassed Spurlock greatly, but at first he dared not complain. Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. .
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